


Something Beautiful And Tragic In The Fallout

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Series: Stay [11]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Debbie needs therapy, Depression, F/F, Feels, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Post-Prison, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, So much guilt, big conversations, but like, loving fights, maybe? - Freeform, post-job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: After everything that happened, Debbie has a lot to process, and she's not handling it well. Lou gives her time and space to deal with it on her own, but when it becomes obvious that's not working they need to have some difficult conversations.





	1. Lost In A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is the part 11 I came up with the idea for partway through writing Whumptober. It's unconnected in that it's not linked to prompts or anything, but it's definitely in that universe. Despite my best intentions, much like part 9 for example, this developed and got more complicated. There's at least one other fic (maybe two?) I'm working on in this verse too, so despite it no longer being October apparently this isn't done yet and you still have more to look forward to?
> 
> Much like part 9, this will also look at things from both perspectives (or at least that's my intention, I haven't tried writing the other half yet).
> 
> Debbie is really bad at the talking thing. 
> 
> Thanks to why for beta reading, and to awildlokiappears and flightinflame for their support through the writing.

The expectation had kind of been that after they got rid of Lika, after the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for months had been dispelled, they would go back to normal. That was proving a lot harder than expected, because there was no normal to go back to anymore.

Debbie had always hated the phrase 'water under the bridge'. It was so often used to handwave away things that shouldn't really be handwaved away. It also really brought home how much things had changed. The six years in prison had at once passed quickly, and at a snail's pace. The routine had been mind numbing, as much as she'd tried to keep herself engaged. She'd fought against becoming institutionalised, but it was hard. The rules were different inside, and although she'd done her best to keep out of it, with a name like hers it had been impossible to avoid everything all the time. The monotony was only really broken up by flashes of violence. Whoever thought women's prisons were calm and safe little islands knew nothing about them. 

She's starting to realise that coming out would have been disorientating even without death on her tail. Perhaps it might have been a little easier, sure, maybe there would have been a few weeks or months of adjustment time, but the transition wouldn't have been gentle. Even Lou had changed. It wasn't like she'd just assumed Lou would wait for her, unchanging, running the same jobs, staying in the same place, and it wasn't like she'd never given Lou a second thought either, but... the reality of the changes was always going to be different to whatever she'd been expecting, and adjusting to reality was hard. Debbie had always been an idealist, working to change reality to how she felt it should be rather than simply accepting how it was. That was one of the differences between them. 

The whole world hadn't paused while she was inside, and left her role empty for her to simply step back into, to put on like a cloak when she returned. The hole she'd been expecting to fill wasn't there any more, and it was always going to take time to find a new one. Now, with Lika gone, she's starting to realise she's only just at the beginning of that time. She can't carry on living the way she always has before, she can't keep on thinking small or relying on contacts, or running jobs, because Lou's the one with a life now and Debbie needs to fit back into that until she can figure out who and where she is. It's not that Lou hasn't left a space for her, but they've both changed, and there are places where the edges don't fit and it grates. 

Even after everything, Lou still has a life she can step back into, because she put that work in. Debbie hasn't put work into much besides Lou in a long time, and she's starting to confront how much she took for granted. She wonders if Danny ever felt like this. Not much seemed to bother him at all, but Debbie doesn't think she's felt this insecure in more than twenty years, and it's not a feeling she likes. Besides, now all of this mess is intrinsically tied in to everything Lika did. Before they'd left Sue's place, she'd suggested getting therapy. Debbie had ruled that out pretty much straight away. Lou had had more patience for the idea, but Debbie had the feeling that Lou was just coping with everything better overall anyway. Sure, she'd been stabbed, tortured, betrayed... but for Lou it had been weeks, not months, and she didn't have anything to feel guilty about. For Debbie, the guilt is always there, weighing her down, constricting her movements, squeezing so tight she can't breathe. 

She's started going for walks, long walks, every day, just trying to get out of the club and find some space to breathe because walking both lets her think and also gives her something to focus on that's not the pit of dread threatening to swallow up her whole existence. She walks for hours, and Lou hasn't commented yet, past asking her if she had a nice time when she comes back. Neither of them really know how to talk about anything that happened, and it's eating Debbie up inside, and the nightmares are getting worse. She can barely close her eyes without seeing Lou, Lou strapped to the chair, writhing as the cattle prod is jabbed yet again into tender flesh, Lou with her feet above her head and a cloth over her face, choking as she feels like she's drowning, Lou's eyes when Debbie lashed out and the knife sank into her like butter, one hand trying and failing to hold her blood in her body where it belongs. 

Although she doesn't want to admit it, since they brought down Lika, Debbie's gone all the way back to not sleeping again, and she doesn't want Lou to notice. She goes to bed every night, lets the blonde wrap around her like a koala and does her best to relax and slow her breathing so it might be a little bit convincing. She's pretty sure Lou isn't buying it, because nobody knows her like Lou, but Debbie doesn't have it in her to broach the subject so she's back to carrying on lying even though she knows it's all going to blow up in her face before long. She doesn't know another way to be. 

It's on one of her long, long walks that Debbie passes the church. She stops mid-stride, freezing and staring at it. She hasn't thought about the place in years, but she remembers it now. Her parents had never been particularly religious as such, but they went because that's what you do, because it never hurt to have god on your side when you were cheating the devil. When her dad had died, her mom had found it comforting, throwing herself into the tradition, because when you didn't have anything to say and words were too much, following along by rote was a way to get your voice back. 

She's always heard Catholics are good at guilt. Maybe she'll find some respite there, maybe there's a chance at forgiveness. Despite how much she knows she doesn't deserve it, Debbie is desperate for forgiveness. Not for any crimes or sins, no, she'd been very careful about that. All of Lika's men were taken alive for due process by the Feds, there hadn't even been any injured bystanders - she'd stayed glued to the press coverage to make sure and the plan had gone perfectly. What Debbie needs forgiveness for is how she hurt Lou, but she can't ask for it, because she knows Lou will grant it when it hasn't been earned, and Debbie can't allow herself to think about how it would feel if Lou said no. 

Debbie walks past it for several weeks, remembering. She remembers her parents. She remembers Danny. She remembers family funerals, weddings, Christmases. She remembers how she felt at five, six, seven years old, small and crammed into the pew between her brother and her mother, in her winter coat over her fancy dress. She'd felt warm there, knowing that outside was cold and dark and filled with snow, falling from the sky pure and white and crisp and fluffy the way it never is now because even when covered in snow, New York is grey. She remembered the way the golden candlelight felt safe, the way the incense and the smell of the tree tickled her nose and the way the carols sounded bell-like and pure and the way Danny held the book up for her so she could see to read the words because it was too heavy for her to manage on her own. 

It feels like a message when she's walking past it and the steel-grey skies open. When Debbie heads into the church it smells just like she remembers, wood polish and incense and candles. For a second she's six years old again, uncertain and clinging on to a past she'll never ever be able to have again. None of the people who used to feel safe back then are even still alive, and god that hurts to realise. She almost stumbles as it feels like the ground shifts under her feet, it's that seismic, and it feels like she has nobody to hang on to. For a moment her brain presents her with an image of Lou, but before her mind's eye it shifts to Lou strapped down and screaming, to Lou staring at her betrayed and bleeding on the floor, and all of a sudden it feels like Lou is a thousand miles away and out of reach and it's all Debbie can do not to fall to her knees and wail because there might not be anyone else in the church but this is still public, and it's wrong, it's not true, it's not like that- except that in her heart Debbie is so scared that it is. 

She sits down in one of the pews at the very back, just for a moment, just till the rain stops, just till her knees stop feeling weak, but everything in her mind and everything all around her all comes together at once, and Debbie Ocean finds herself starting to pray. 

It's an easy routine to fall into, pretending to sleep, sharing breakfast, going for walks... sometimes she goes down to the club. She's on first name terms with the staff now, but for the most part she keeps herself to herself. She doesn't know what to do, how to process anything, and she can feel herself closing off but she can't do anything about it. She keeps going back to the church, lighting a candle, for Danny, for her mother, for her father, for Lou, for... herself, sometimes, on days that are particularly bad. She lights candles for Tammy and Leslie and Rose and Daphne and Constance, even for Amita though she hardly knew the woman. Without her, Debbie is very aware she would be dead. She can't even begin to start paying back the debts she owes. 

It's been two weeks. Two weeks of wrestling with her conscience, two weeks of appreciating the rhythms of church life that carried on around her, two weeks of wondering whether she should give everything up and try to live some kind of normal life, to make up for everything she's done, maybe if she joins the church or something... there's a comfort to it, she can understand that so much better now than she ever could before... but she hasn't found a way yet to square the comfort of the church with what it has to say about her and the woman she loves. Maybe it's weak, but Debbie knows that no matter what, she can't leave Lou, even if Lou would be so much better off without her. 

Debbie's been kneeling at the altar rail. She moves around sometimes, in the pews, at the altar rail, in the lady chapel... She's been there long enough that she feels the stiffness through her legs and in her back. It feels like a step in the right direction when she spends long enough there to feel it in every inch of her body. When she rises and stretches and turns back to the pews, to the place that's become her usual place, she finds it already occupied. 

Even from here she can tell who it is. 

Debbie tries to stride confidently when she walks back down the aisle towards her seat, tries to look like she's in control, like she knows what she's doing. 

She knows the figure isn't buying it. 

She doesn't meet Lou's eyes when she sits down next to her again, trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible. 

They sit in silence. Lou's always been good at silence. She's perfectly comfortable with it in a way Debbie isn't, because Debbie isn't comfortable with herself and silence only exposes that more, makes her confront things, makes her need to make noise to drown out the voices in her head. That was before all of this. These days it's even worse. As much as she wants to speak, she just doesn't know how to, what to say... and eventually it is Lou who breaks the silence. 

"Time to go home?"

Debbie gathers her things silently, and reaches for Lou's hand. Lou lets her, and the warmth of her hand brings it home to Debbie how cold she is. Lou doesn't say a word, though, and the two of them walk home in silence. 

When they reach the club, Lou goes straight into the kitchen and puts the kettle on, pulling out two mugs and the coffee, and the milk and sugar since despite everything Debbie is still Debbie. 

"So... you wanna talk?"

"I... I don't know where to start."

And even Debbie's surprised by how small her voice sounds. She hadn't really appreciated how little she'd been talking. It feels weak from underuse. It's a foreign sensation given how much she usually talks. 

"Okay. It doesn't necessarily need to be at the beginning, but you gotta start somewhere. We can't go on like this baby, so... pick a place and let's see if we can figure this out."

Debbie stares at her coffee when Lou hands it to her. It's almost too hot to hold. Almost. The intensity of the heat in her palms keeps her focused. 

"...Part of me... can see the attraction my mother found in the church after my father died. I get it now. And part of me feels like it would be so much simpler if I just... stopped. Gave up. Stopped playing the game and threw myself into something else. I'm not talking joining a nunnery or anything but just... I can see why cults prey on the vulnerable."

"What's stopping you?"

"You." And Debbie finally looks up and straight into those searing blue eyes. "You are. Because as much as I know I hurt you and you'd be better off without me and I'm probably making things worse just by being here... when it comes to you, I'm fucking selfish, and I can't... give that up. I can't believe that what they say about love like ours is true. I can't believe I'm going to hell for loving you. I can accept that I'm going to hell for other reasons, but for loving you? That can't ever be a reason. And that... that's been hard. Feeling like I want that, knowing that the price is higher than I'm willing to pay, feeling like a failure."

"You may be a lot of things, Deborah Ocean, but you have never been a failure."

Lou's voice is sharp, and that's enough to make Debbie almost flinch. She tries to hide it, but she's never been all that good about hiding things from Lou. That's why avoidance has always been her strategy, and Lou's been seeing through that for years. 

"If you're going to start talking like that, don't you think you should ask me what I want? What I think? Or are you back to making unilateral decisions, because the last time you thought you knew what was best, look where we ended up."

And now Debbie does flinch, but Lou doesn't stop, because she has the advantage even for just a moment and she has to press it because otherwise the walls are just going to come straight back up again and she is so done playing this game. 

"I love you. I chose you. And there have been times when I have paid the price for that. In blood, on more than one occasion. You left me. You were the one who went to jail. You disappeared for six years and when you came out, you lied to me. It might have been by omission, but you lied to me. You promised. We promised. We said forever. Partners. Forever. Ride or die. I built a whole fucking life without you, waiting for you to come back, I kept a space for you. And now you tell me you're thinking of leaving me, 'for my own good'? What kind of fucking patronising bullshit is that? You're a fucking coward. You were not alone in that warehouse. Not for a second. Maybe you were alone in the showers, but you weren't alone from the second you walked out of that prison, and I was here, waiting, and if you'd been honest with me from the start, maybe we wouldn't have ended up in that mess. Seriously, Debbie. Me. Of all people, you couldn't talk to /me/? We've shared /everything/. /EVERYTHING/. And you decided you couldn't talk to me. Do you know how shitty that felt? Do you know how alone I felt? Knowing that you were hiding something, that there was something going on but you couldn't tell me what it was, not being able to protect you? It fucking /kills/ me, not being able to protect you. You /know/ that. You've always known that, so don't fucking try to tell me that you didn't."

Lou's voice softens a little from where it had grown louder and louder, tears in her eyes she's trying to deny, and Debbie can feel the shards of her heart aching sharp in her chest. 

"And you're doing it all over again and I can't... I can't just sit back and watch you. You're a fucking self-destructive mess sometimes, always have been. You get lost in your own head without me there to pull you out of it. It's why we work so well together. So why don't you take a fucking risk for once and try being honest with yourself, even if you can't be honest with me. What do you /want/, Debbie?"

"I want /you/!" And Debbie's on her feet now, and yelling, and she doesn't know when she stood up and she hates that she's yelling but there are tears on her cheeks and why the fuck is Lou the only one who can reduce her control to rubble like this? "You're all I've /ever/ wanted, Lou. You're... perfect, you're the other half of my /soul/ and all I want is to be good enough for you. To... be able to give you /everything/, to be able to take care of you the way you take care of me, but I /can't/, I've never been able to, and I just... I wanted to come out and just... come back to you. Build a life. Maybe just... do something domestic. Come in on the club with you and do something... mostly legal. I didn't... get to do that. I spent six fucking years dreaming of that every night, every day, dreaming of you and the life we could have when I got out, knowing that you would be there because you /promised/ and you've never broken your word. Because I loved you and I knew that you loved me, and instead of being able to move on from everything, I got dragged into something that's way bigger than I was /ever/ ready for, than any of my family were ever stupid enough to get dragged into and all I wanted to do was keep you out of it because I thought maybe at least I could keep you safe for once after all the times you kept me safe and I couldn't even fucking do that. I let it come between us, and even after trying to keep it away, trying to handle it, I was the one that fucked it up, the one who hurt you. And now every time I close my eyes I see you, I see you on that fucking table, I see the look in your eyes when I stabbed you, I hear the way you choked and screamed and begged me not to leave you. I haven't slept in /weeks/ because every time I try all I see is how I let you down and I will /never/ be able to forgive myself, because I. Don't. Deserve it. Even if you forgive me, I don't deserve it, and I don't know... I don't know what to do, Lou. I love you. With every broken, torn up, worthless shred of me. And every... single time you touch me I know how little I deserve you."

"You don't get to make that choice. You get to feel however you want, but you don't get to dictate how I feel or the choices I make. You don't get to decide whether or not I deserve you, or whether /I/ have a future with /you/. You can decide whether you have a future with me, but you don't get to sit there and sound like some fucking martyr telling me that this is for my own good, because I am /not/ watching you do this again, least of all for my own /fucking/ good. I /love/ you. You can decide that you don't love me but you don't get to tell me not to love you or when to stop. You fucked up when you didn't tell me what was going on, but that was not a situation of your own making, and I don't blame you for it. I also understand why you handled it the way you did even if I think it was stupid and selfish and wrong. But that's in the past now, and this is something else. This is something else. This isn't Lika, this is your own fucking insecurities, threatening to destroy everything we've built, and forgive me if I'm not just going to sit back and let them. I let you take your time, Deborah, I let you have space, I figured maybe you'd work it out of your system somehow, but you are /killing/ yourself, and I'm not just going to watch it happen. You need some fucking /professional/ help, and you are going to get it. I'm not in the mood for some bullshit about Oceans not needing therapy or whatever line you are going to pull on me. It's not a sign of being weak either, because you are not weak. But I am telling you right now, if I am the future you want, then you need to get some fucking therapy. So you can call Sue and get that set up. Then maybe when you've worked your way through some of the issues that this has brought up for you, we can talk about it again. I waited for you for six years, I can wait another six months, but I'm not getting you back to watch you destroy yourself. Not after what we survived."

And Debbie stares at her for the longest moment, feeling time stretch like an elastic band, hearing the pounding of her own heartbeat echoing through her head, frozen like a statue until finally, /finally/ the tears spill down her cheeks.

And Lou closes the distance between them, and gathers Debbie close as she starts to sob, tucking Debbie against her where she fits so perfectly, Debbie's face in the crook of her neck, her tears hot against Lou's skin, with one arm wrapped around her lower back, the other tucked around her shoulders with her hand in Debbie's hair, stroking and scritching gently. She doesn't speak, because there's nothing left to say. 

Debbie starts shaking, and Lou tugs the brunette back with her to the couch, almost stumbling onto it and pulling Debbie with her, into her lap, because these tears have been a long time coming, and Lou knows there's a lot to come out. Perhaps when they finally dry she'll be able to text Sue, finally reach out and start processing everything that's happened. 

"That's it... there we go sweetheart... that's it... I've got you baby... it's safe, I promise... there we go... let it all out... let go... you don't have to carry this anymore Debbie... I love you... that's it... we're okay... we're going to be okay..."


	2. Indignation To Every Tainted Soul

Coming back to reality seems like the sort of thing that should be gradual, but it isn't. It's seldom a gentle process, and the shift from whatever else is going on back to the reality that came before is a seismic shift enough to leave events fading from memory enough to feel like a dream. It's only the scar over her hip really that reminds Lou of everything that happened. It's the concrete proof. With her ribs healed now, there's not even a real remnant of the torture. She's lucky in that respect, she knows that, and it's not like she's not aware of what happened to them, but unlike Debbie, Lou isn't finding that it keeps her up at night. Her sleep is dreamless and deep, with Debbie tucked up next to her where she belongs again. 

Except that it's not quite right, because Debbie isn't really there anymore. It's just like it was back at the fucking beginning, with Debbie lying in bed next to her like a corpse, cold and unmoving and Lou is /not/ going through this all over again. She knows Debbie Ocean is as stubborn as anything. The fact that their relationship exists at all is testament to that, and to her own stubbornness in the face of something that she wants. Debbie has been everything she's wanted for over twenty years, and no matter what, Lou is not going to just /let/ her slip through her fucking fingers. Especially not now, not now they've survived Lika and everything that fucking meant. She's tried giving her space, knowing that on top of everything that happened Debbie also has her brother to mourn, that she's trying to find her feet in a world that changed while she was inside. There's nothing that can help some of those things more than time, but Lou also knows Debbie, and there's nobody who can spiral into guilt and shame like Debbie Ocean and it doesn't take a genius to tell that it's eating her alive. 

Fuck that bullshit.

It didn't take Lou long to find out where Debbie is going. At first it was just walks, and Lou can understand the attraction of mindless exercise. She can even understand the attraction of the church. It's all looking like it might be okay, like things might be moving along and Debbie might be processing everything they've been through... until it's not. Lou's witnessed enough of Debbie's spirals to know the signs, and this has every hallmark of a bad one, and it reminds her enough of the Debbie who came out of prison to her that Lou can feel her guts twisting, cold with dread, just at the thought of it. She's glad that Farah and Peggy are both competent enough to keep the club ticking over still while Lou continues to fight to piece together the remnants of the life she had. 

When she feels like she's waited long enough, when she's given Debbie a chance to get her shit together and it's pretty obvious that isn't happening, Lou follows her to the church and waits. It's a nice building, she can see that, and the smell of it is the same as it is everywhere and anywhere. That kind of feeling of continuity can bring comfort, she can see that. It doesn't mean a lot to her, but she's always respected the things Debbie holds onto. There aren't many, and if this is one of them, then fair enough. She's not alone in that. Lou gets it. But this is not healthy and she's not just going to let Debbie carry on like this. 

She can see Debbie up at the altar, but she's not going to interrupt. It doesn't take much to get Debbie defensive, and Lou knows she's pushing her luck a little bit. She also knows she's the only one who can do this, and that it needs to be done. Something has to change. Nothing about this is sustainable. So Lou takes a pew and waits, because if there's anything she's good at, it's waiting for Debbie Ocean. Lou knows what she wants and isn't shy about getting it. Debbie overthinks absolutely everything, and sometimes it means she just has to be a little bit patient while Debbie spins out until she comes to rest where she belonged all along. 

She knows the second Debbie spots her. She sees the momentary falter, and the way Debbie's trying to walk back down the aisle with a confidence she doesn't feel. She notices the way Debbie won't meet her eyes. She doesn't comment on any of those things, and instead just waits until Debbie is sat down next to her before she breaks the silence because it's transparently obvious that Debbie either won't or can't, Lou's not sure which. 

"Time to go home?"

And Debbie packs up her things without saying a word, but she reaches for Lou's hand and Lou's only too glad to take it. Debbie's is freezing, but she can feel it slowly warming, and the gesture of reaching out gives her hope that they might get somewhere with it. It's obvious that she's going to have to be the one to take the lead again, though, the one to have this fight. She doesn't want to, but it's the only way. Shocking Debbie out of this might change things, but when she's this lost, nothing else will. Lou has plenty of practice and bringing her home, though. She only hopes it works this time. To take the sting out of it, the first thing she does when they get back is put the kettle on, because she's not going through this without coffee, and when the dust settles, they'll both need something hot and sweet to take the edge off. 

"So... you wanna talk?"

"I... I don't know where to start."

Lou's eyes widen a little, because that croak in Debbie's voice brings home to her how long it's been since she actually heard Debbie speak. It's never a good sign when Debbie stops talking, it's just that with trying to get her own life back into some kind of order, Lou hadn't really noticed, at least, not as soon as she should have. Lou takes a deep breath, trying to project a confidence she doesn't feel because somebody needs to be in charge of this situation, and it's absolutely not going to be Debbie. She tries for gentle, hoping that it might not need to get messy, knowing that it will.

"Okay. It doesn't necessarily need to be at the beginning, but you gotta start somewhere. We can't go on like this baby, so... pick a place and let's see if we can figure this out."

She hands Debbie her coffee, the edge blunted with milk and sugar just the way she likes it, and Debbie stares at the coffee because she can't stare at Lou and licks her lips and tries to find words she doesn't have. 

"...Part of me... can see the attraction my mother found in the church after my father died. I get it now. And part of me feels like it would be so much simpler if I just... stopped. Gave up. Stopped playing the game and threw myself into something else. I'm not talking joining a nunnery or anything but just... I can see why cults prey on the vulnerable."

And Lou pounces on that, because Debbie can't say something like that and expect to get away with it. It's unacceptable. 

"What's stopping you?"

"You." And Lou's heart skips and squeezes as Debbie finally looks her in the eye again and she sees how desolate her lover looks. "You are. Because as much as I know I hurt you and you'd be better off without me and I'm probably making things worse just by being here... when it comes to you, I'm fucking selfish, and I can't... give that up. I can't believe that what they say about love like ours is true. I can't believe I'm going to hell for loving you. I can accept that I'm going to hell for other reasons, but for loving you? That can't ever be a reason. And that... that's been hard. Feeling like I want that, knowing that the price is higher than I'm willing to pay, feeling like a failure."

Her voice is rough despite herself as Lou shakes her head, because no, she can't let that pass. It snaps out, sharp as a whip, and she can see Debbie recoil but it's too late to stop even if she wanted to because this is her opening, this is her chance to get through to her, to cut through the self-pitying bullshit, the darkness Debbie is lost in all over again, and she has to press the advantage while she has it before the gap is closed. 

"You may be a lot of things, Deborah Ocean, but you have never been a failure. If you're going to start talking like that, don't you think you should ask me what I want? What I think? Or are you back to making unilateral decisions, because the last time you thought you knew what was best, look where we ended up."

And Debbie flinches but Lou can't stop, won't stop, because there's too much that has to be said, because Debbie doesn't realise how her guilt hurts other people, how she doesn't need to feel guilty, how she's needed and loved and valued for who she is and that Lou is hurting without her. 

"I love you. I chose you. And there have been times when I have paid the price for that. In blood, on more than one occasion. You left me. You were the one who went to jail. You disappeared for six years and when you came out, you lied to me. It might have been by omission, but you lied to me. You promised. We promised. We said forever. Partners. Forever. Ride or die. I built a whole fucking life without you, waiting for you to come back, I kept a space for you. And now you tell me you're thinking of leaving me, 'for my own good'? What kind of fucking patronising bullshit is that? You're a fucking coward. You were not alone in that warehouse. Not for a second. Maybe you were alone in the showers, but you weren't alone from the second you walked out of that prison, and I was here, waiting, and if you'd been honest with me from the start, maybe we wouldn't have ended up in that mess. Seriously, Debbie. Me. Of all people, you couldn't talk to /me/? We've shared /everything/. /EVERYTHING/. And you decided you couldn't talk to me. Do you know how shitty that felt? Do you know how alone I felt? Knowing that you were hiding something, that there was something going on but you couldn't tell me what it was, not being able to protect you? It fucking /kills/ me, not being able to protect you. You /know/ that. You've always known that, so don't fucking try to tell me that you didn't."

Lou can hear that she's yelling now and she doesn't mean to be, but she is so sick of this. She had to handle six years without Debbie, and when it was supposed to go back to being okay again it didn't, it couldn't, and now... it's their chance and Debbie's too busy stuck in the past to realise what's right in front of her and what she's throwing away and it fucking hurts and Lou is angry and done with pretending that she isn't, even if she is trying to pretend that there aren't tears in her eyes.

"And you're doing it all over again and I can't... I can't just sit back and watch you. You're a fucking self-destructive mess sometimes, always have been. You get lost in your own head without me there to pull you out of it. It's why we work so well together. So why don't you take a fucking risk for once and try being honest with yourself, even if you can't be honest with me. What do you /want/, Debbie?"

Her heart's in her throat and she has to know because she's gambling everything on Debbie saying yes, on this being enough, on still being what Debbie wants even after everything knowing that she could be wrong, but she's willing to trust and believe that she still knows Debbie after all this time, that she's doing it right, that this is a risk worth taking. 

Debbie will always be a risk worth taking. 

And when Debbie shoots to her feet some dispassionate observer in the back of Lou's mind is surprised it took that long because although she's not confrontational, Debbie Ocean will not back down from a fight, and she was half expecting them to have reached this point five minutes ago. 

"I want /you/! You're all I've /ever/ wanted, Lou. You're... perfect, you're the other half of my /soul/ and all I want is to be good enough for you. To... be able to give you /everything/, to be able to take care of you the way you take care of me, but I /can't/, I've never been able to, and I just... I wanted to come out and just... come back to you. Build a life. Maybe just... do something domestic. Come in on the club with you and do something... mostly legal. I didn't... get to do that. I spent six fucking years dreaming of that every night, every day, dreaming of you and the life we could have when I got out, knowing that you would be there because you /promised/ and you've never broken your word. Because I loved you and I knew that you loved me, and instead of being able to move on from everything, I got dragged into something that's way bigger than I was /ever/ ready for, than any of my family were ever stupid enough to get dragged into and all I wanted to do was keep you out of it because I thought maybe at least I could keep you safe for once after all the times you kept me safe and I couldn't even fucking do that. I let it come between us, and even after trying to keep it away, trying to handle it, I was the one that fucked it up, the one who hurt you. And now every time I close my eyes I see you, I see you on that fucking table, I see the look in your eyes when I stabbed you, I hear the way you choked and screamed and begged me not to leave you. I haven't slept in /weeks/ because every time I try all I see is how I let you down and I will /never/ be able to forgive myself, because I. Don't. Deserve it. Even if you forgive me, I don't deserve it, and I don't know... I don't know what to do, Lou. I love you. With every broken, torn up, worthless shred of me. And every... single time you touch me I know how little I deserve you."

And Lou doesn't think she's ever been this angry in her life, and the rage is boiling through her veins like lava, because nobody, but /nobody/ gets to tell Debbie Ocean that she's worthless, and she's not going to stand for it, because there is nobody as precious and amazing and incredible and gloriously, perfectly imperfect, and Debbie has always been Lou's Achilles heel, and it's so fucking /typical/ of Debbie to be pulling this martyr act, and Lou is /tired/ of Debbie trying to take her autonomy away under the guise of 'protecting' her, because Debbie is not the one who does the protecting in this relationship and she never has been. 

"You don't get to make that choice. You get to feel however you want, but you don't get to dictate how I feel or the choices I make. You don't get to decide whether or not I deserve you, or whether /I/ have a future with /you/. You can decide whether you have a future with me, but you don't get to sit there and sound like some fucking martyr telling me that this is for my own good, because I am /not/ watching you do this again, least of all for my own /fucking/ good. I /love/ you. You can decide that you don't love me but you don't get to tell me not to love you or when to stop. You fucked up when you didn't tell me what was going on, but that was not a situation of your own making, and I don't blame you for it. I also understand why you handled it the way you did even if I think it was stupid and selfish and wrong. But that's in the past now, and this is something else. This is something else. This isn't Lika, this is your own fucking insecurities, threatening to destroy everything we've built, and forgive me if I'm not just going to sit back and let them. I let you take your time, Deborah, I let you have space, I figured maybe you'd work it out of your system somehow, but you are /killing/ yourself, and I'm not just going to watch it happen. You need some fucking /professional/ help, and you are going to get it. I'm not in the mood for some bullshit about Oceans not needing therapy or whatever line you are going to pull on me. It's not a sign of being weak either, because you are not weak. But I am telling you right now, if I am the future you want, then you need to get some fucking therapy. So you can call Sue and get that set up. Then maybe when you've worked your way through some of the issues that this has brought up for you, we can talk about it again. I waited for you for six years, I can wait another six months, but I'm not getting you back to watch you destroy yourself. Not after what we survived."

The words echo in the silence that follows them and up until now Lou has always thought that was a figure of speech. Debbie is staring at her like her heart is breaking and her world is falling apart and Lou can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she prays she hasn't gone too far, but even if it ends in a blaze of glory she's not letting this relationship wither and die. She's always planned to go out with a bang rather than a whimper, even if she's hoping against hope that this isn't it. 

And it's like a wave of relief as the tears spill over down Debbie's cheeks and she sways a little on the spot because it means the walls are finally down and they can start to rebuild, it means that Lou's gotten through to her, even with the yelling and the words so harsh her throat still burns with them. Lou's the one who closes the gap, because she's the one who's been in charge of this situation from the start, and it always aches in her bones when Debbie's crying. She wraps up around Debbie, feeling the brunette's tears burn against the skin of her collarbone as she presses open-mouthed kisses to her temple and murmurs words that don't make sense just to keep a sussurus of comforting sound going in the background, to keep Debbie grounded in her body. She can feel Debbie start to shake, and it's a /relief/ that this dam is finally bursting. 

It's only a few steps to the couch and Lou tugs Debbie with her, into her lap, wrapping up around her, rocking her gently, and letting her cry out everything they've been through. 

"That's it... there we go sweetheart... that's it... I've got you baby... it's safe, I promise... there we go... let it all out... let go... you don't have to carry this anymore Debbie... I love you... that's it... we're okay... we're going to be okay..."

There's a lot to process, and this is barely the start, but it's a first step they desperately needed to take, and Lou knows this means they have a future. When things have calmed down though, before something to eat and a soothing nightcap, because there's no way Lou's working the club tonight, she's going to make sure Debbie texts Sue to start lining up some help. Then they're going to have an early night. Everything will feel better in the morning.

Really, it feels a lot like sunrise.


End file.
